


All That Glitters

by LaShaRa



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Caitlin Is A Daredevil, F/F, Fluff, Goldenfrost, High School AU, Ice Skating AU, Killergold - Freeform, Lisa Snart's Got Feels, M/M, Multi, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaShaRa/pseuds/LaShaRa
Summary: Three decades, and the lives of Lisa Snart and Caitlin Snow have repeatedly shattered and been put back together on one particular February day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic, the Great ColdWave Split happened about twenty years early, and thankfully involved the death of Lewis Snart. The Waverider never happened, but somehow they’ve all ended up in Season 3 of Flash with none of the gnarly shit. Yet.

The new girl in Lisa’s ice skating class looks like she’s about to cry. Most of the girls there, including Lisa, would kill for the kind of glittering pink skates she has, but they’ve still got the same impossible number of laces as the scruffy skates you can hire from the rink itself, and like Lisa on her first day, the girl’s manage to completely tangle them up. The difference is that Lisa had Lenny with her on her first day, turning the lace-up process into a game, so that even though he’d done her laces today before heading off to meet Mick (Lisa’d told him to ask him out in honour of the date – she’s six, not blind), she’s perfectly able to do them herself if she needed to. The new girl’s mother, however, hadn’t even bothered to take off her sunglasses as she whisked in and out, like she just knew she wouldn’t be sticking around. Lisa feels sorry for the girl; if she didn’t have Lenny, she’d have cried that first day too. Class hasn’t started yet, and Lisa decides to skate over. “Do you want some help with that?”

The girl looks Lisa up and down, and Lisa decides that if she says something about how much rattier Lisa’s outfit is than her own, she’s going to practice that punch Mick thought her how to throw last week. However, when the girl finally speaks, her voice is small and shy. “That’s nice of you.”

Lisa brightens. She likes shy people; they remind her of Lenny. She crouches down and starts untangling the bright pink laces. “It’s all about concentration,” she says, the way Lenny’d said to her.

“I didn’t know that,” says the girl. She sounds unhappy, and Lisa looks up, smiling encouragingly. “It’s your first day. You’ll learn soon enough.”

The girl smiles. She has a pretty smile, Lisa decides. “I’m Caitlin Snow.”

“Nice to meet you, Cait,” says Lisa, and grins as the laces come free. “I’m Lisa Snart. I’m sure we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

-

“Do you wanna come get ice cream with us today? Mick and Lenny just got paid” – which means Mick and Lenny just pulled their fourth heist, but Caitlin doesn’t need to know that – “and Lenny says we can go over to the new place at the mall.”

Caitlin shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Lisey,” she says, and Lisa knows she really means it – when it comes to ice cream, Caitlin can give Lenny a run for his money. “But my mum’s signed me up for this new chem class and it starts in an hour.”

“Cait, you’re in sixth grade. You don’t even have chemistry at school yet.”

“I know.” The way Caitlin’s shoulder’s sag tell Lisa it’s not a good day to launch into her (slightly hypocritical) argument of why Caitlin needs to stand up to her mother. “Maybe another time.”

Lisa tries to keep her voice neutral as she tosses her skates into her bag. “Yeah, another time.”

Caitlin looks up – her mother’s not killing her with extra classes because she’s stupid, after all. “You’re not mad, are you, Lisa? Wait – was there a reason you wanted me to come today? It’s not Mick’s birthday yet, is it?”

“No, Mick’s is next week – and it’s cool, Cait, really – we’ll do it another time,” says Lisa, smiling and trying not to think about the giant strawberry sundae with a dozen toppings which she’d asked Lenny to order so it’d be ready when they walked in, and which she’s now going to have to eat herself.

-

“But why aren’t you coming?”

They’re sitting outside the rink, on the bench from which the hired car picks Caitlin up after practice, and Lisa’s getting tired of this conversation. “I told you, my dad wouldn’t sign the permission slip.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrow. “Lise, your brother can forge a doctor’s report so well that the teacher sends back a letter recommending that you take an extra week off school. Try again.”

Lisa decides to go with a half-truth. “Well, it’s really expensive, Cait - ”

“And you told me just last week that Len and Mick are doing really well on that travelling security gig.” Sure, if that’s what you called hopping from city to city smashing open the security of banks and art galleries left and right. “Plus – come on, Lise, you know I’d spot you the money in a heartbeat - ”

“I don’t need your money!” snaps Lisa, and then curses internally as Caitlin recoils. “I’m sorry, that was mean. What I meant was – it’s nice of you to offer, but I just don’t think this trip is going to happen for me.”

The sheer number of unhappy emotions on Caitlin’s face just makes Lisa feel even worse. “But – this isn’t just any trip, Lisa, this are Junior Nationals! This is what we’ve dreamed of since we started skating! And you’re the best of the best – you heard Coach, he thinks you could skate at the Olympics one day, Lisa. The Olympics. How can you just – give up on this?”

“I’m not giving up!” exclaims Lisa. “I just – look, Caitlin, it’s not your job to understand everything, all right?”

“Is this about you only wearing long sleeves now? And those bruises that I saw last week? Lisa, if something’s going on, I can - ”

“What are you going to do, Caitlin?” demands Lisa. She knows she isn’t being fair, she knows none of this is Caitlin’s fault, but she’s angry – angry at her father, for taking this last chance away from her with his threats and his fists and the sprained ankle she’s been dancing on for two weeks and which is slowly driving her mad with pain, angry at Lenny and Mick, for not being here, angry at Caitlin, for not being able to see what Lisa can’t tell her, but most of all angry at herself, for even imagining that that this could be any different. “What can you ever do? Your mother controls your entire life. If the Nationals weren’t something that would build up your CV, you wouldn’t be going either. You’re not even technically allowed to speak to me – isn’t why I have to go now before your driver sees me?” Lisa stands up and gathers her things, ignoring the wave of pain from her ankle. “Have fun, Caitlin. I hope you win. I’ll see you around when you get back, all right.”

She doesn’t look back as she starts walking. Part of her wants to; part of her aches for Caitlin to run after her, tell her the hired car won’t be here for a few more minutes, remind her that she hasn’t reminded Caitlin how to do up her laces, the way they always do before contests. But part of her feels like it was just a matter of time, that she was fooling herself when she thought a person like Caitlin Snow, who’s already got five Ivy League universities waiting to snatch her up the moment she graduates, would ever stick around someone like Lisa Snart, who’s greatest hope for the future is escaping her no-good father’s clutches. And it’s that part that wins out when she reaches the corner, and Caitlin still hasn’t come after her. Out of the corner of her eye, Lisa sees the hired car heading towards the rink on the other side of the road; she tips up her chin and keeps walking, even though every other step burns as bad as her stinging eyes.

-

Caitlin’s just about ready to throw up. That would make it the third time in as many hours. The first had been when she’d skipped school for the first time in sixteen years, and had had to abruptly exit the cab she was in and throw up in the nearest alley.

The second time had been when she’d got to the address that her skating coach had in his records for Lisa Snart and found what had once been a two storey house in a bad neighbourhood but was now burned to the ground. 

Now she’s climbing up a badly lit concrete stairwell in a neighbourhood not far from the last and not much better. The only difference is that she’s been here before. True, it had been only once, when they’d stopped here after one of the few ice cream dates she’d gone on with Lisa and Len and Mick so that Mick could get his spare lighter, but she remembers it well enough, remembers being terrified out of her mind too, all the things her mother had ever told her about places like this rushing around her mind, Lisa’s gloved hand in hers the only thing that stopped her from bolting back down the stairs.

She’s not terrified now. Her mouth tastes nasty and her throat is raw, her hand is tight on the pepper spray in her coat pocket and she’s hoping against hope that none of her teachers will call her mother, but underneath all that she’s numb, and colder than she’s ever been in her life. A little of the numbness dissipates when she reaches the next landing, because there, outside the heavy black door, is a pile of mismatched shoes and boots, and something gold is glittering in the mess.

Lisa loves those boots about as much as she loves gold. They’d probably cost a tiny fraction of what’s spent on Caitlin in a day, between the driver and the organic meals and the fees for her classes and the personal trainer, but Lisa loves them, because Len had bought them for her with his first paycheck. They’re ancient now, threatening to fall to bits, but Lisa is seldom more than twenty feet away from her golden boots. Caitlin takes a deep breath and raps sharply on the door. 

Something crashes inside the apartment and there’s a rush of heavy boots. Caitlin just has time to think that it doesn’t sound like either Lisa or Len when the door is wrenched open and Mick Rory’s standing in the doorway in a filthy pair of trousers, clumsy bandages covering his bare chest and shoulders, blinking at her through wild, bloodshot eyes. He smells so strongly of smoke that Caitlin just barely manages not to gag again. He doesn’t look entirely sane. “Cai’lyn?” he says hoarsely after a minute.

“Yeah, Mick, it’s me,” Caitlin says carefully. All her nerves are jangling; she’s learned a lot about Len Snart’s partner over the years, knows he’s as hotheaded and wild as Len is precise and controlled, but she’s never seen him like this. Still, she’s come this far… “Is Lisa around?”

Mick stares at her. “You don’t know,” he manages to croak out after another minute.

“Know what?” says Caitlin sharply. The fear that’s she’s forced down under the numbness, the horrible, crushing, unthinkable what if which she’s spent the whole walk here ignoring, begins to crack open the numbness and crawl up her throat. “I’ve been in New York for three weeks, Mick. I went to Lisa’s house and it was…” The look on Mick’s face tells her that he already knows and the fear leaps up and swallows her heart. “Mick, where are they?!”

Mick sways a little, reaching out and holding onto the edge of the door for balance. Glancing at his arms, Caitlin notes absently that the livid marks edging out from under the loose bandages are third-degree burns like the ones she’d been studying in class just before Nationals. “Gone,” croaks Mick, and a spear of ice lodges itself in Caitlin’s heart. “All gone.”

-

In a ski lodge high in Chugach State Park, Anchorage, Lisa stares into a fast-cooling cup of hot chocolate doused with mini-marshmallows. Normally it wouldn’t even have lasted this long – Lenny’s hot chocolate is a thing of beauty, but, well – her dad just died a week ago. Was murdered, actually. Burned to death by her brother’s boyfriend. Maybe it would be easier to deal with if she hadn’t been there to see it happen, seen Lenny curled up on the floor bleeding from about every inch of his skin, seen Mick burst into the room, bellowing and wielding flames in each hand, except it hadn’t been Mick, not really, heard her father’s screams as she dragged Lenny out of the burning house, only to have him run back in to fetch Mick when he lost himself in the flames. And now – and now, she’s an orphan with a ruined ankle, about three thousand miles away from everything she’s ever known.

Not quite an orphan though, she thinks, as Lenny enters the room. For a moment Lisa can’t quite process the items he has in his hands, but then he holds one of the heart-shaped lollipops out to her and asks, “Be my Valentine, sis?”

He’s trying so hard to smile that it looks like his jaw might split with the strain any minute. The piercing cold is only making the bruises and scabbed over cuts on his face more vivid, despite the fact that he covered them with concealer when he went out this morning. Lisa stares at the pink and white candy, and tries to keep her shit together, because they’ve left Mick behind in Central – not to take the fall, Len made sure he wouldn’t be caught, but hurting and alone and with no way of ever tracking them down. And Caitlin – Caitlin should have got back from New York two days ago, and she’ll be waiting at the rink like they do after they haven’t seen each other for a while, her bag stuffed with the little shampoo bottles and hotel stationary which Lisa loves collecting and an envelope of printed photographs, and she’ll be waiting, but Lisa won’t be there.

Or maybe Caitlin won’t be waiting at all, and then there truly won’t be any reason for them to ever go back to Central again.

When the tears finally come, Lenny pulls her into his arms and she holds on with all her might, despite knowing every inch of him hurts too much to even sleep on a bed. Over his shoulder, she can see the snow billowing down over the Alaskan landscape, and all she can think about is how much Caitlin, back in temperate Central, would love to see this.

-

When Caitlin is absolutely certain that Mick has nothing left to tell her, she leaves him sitting on the ratty couch and staring into space, dropping the box of assorted painkillers which she usually carries in her bag on the kitchen table as she goes. It’s later than she thought; school must have let out twenty minutes ago, but Caitlin doesn’t really care right now. She walks until she’s out of Mick’s neighbourhood and gets a cab to her favourite bistro, the one where her mother never comes because she claims everything there causes diabetes if you so much look at it. It’s packed, but the lady who owns it takes one look at her face and gets her a table at the very back, next to the window. There’s a bunch of pink roses in a bowl on the table; red hearts and baubles festoon the walls. Caitlin orders a milkshake that she knows she won’t drink, and opens her purse once the waitress leaves to check if she has enough money left for a cab back home, or if she needs to call the car. It’s then that she sees the slim, lilac velvet box tucked away inside.

With stiff, jerky movements, she slides the box out and snaps open the lid. The gold bracelet inside has three 5-carat strands, each of them hung with little gold discs. It looks faintly foreign, like something someone who doesn’t quite belong in Central City would wear, someone bold and exotic and beautiful. The waitress comes over with Caitlin’s milkshakes and lets out an exclamation of wonder. “Oh, isn’t that a beauty! I’ll tell you something, honey, if that’s the kind of candy heart they’re giving you, they’re a keeper!”

Caitlin takes a deep breath and gives the waitress a shaky smile, because she doesn’t think she can correct those assumptions without completely losing her mind. As the waitress walks away, Caitlin clasps the bracelet onto her wrist and watches how it sits far too loose against her pale skin, its glow somehow duller than it had been under the lights of the New York jewelry store, when she’d imagined how it well it would match Lisa’s tan. “But I didn’t keep her,” she says, and thinks, for the thousandth time, of the moment when Lisa walked away and Caitlin didn’t follow her.

-

“Do you two…know each other?” asks Barry, barely concealed horror in his voice. Everyone is staring – Iris with curiosity, Cisco with outrage, Wally and HR with amusement. Caitlin sneaks a glance at the tall, limber, heartbreakingly beautiful brunette on the other side of the cortex, but she’s fiddling with the elbow zips on her leather jacket. It’s like they’re seven years old again, watching Caitlin’s mother screech to a halt at the side of the rink, watching them skate hand in hand with an expression of absolute distaste.

It’s Len – Captain Cold, Caitlin, he’s a supervillain now – who answers. “They’ve met.” His drawl has only got more pronounced over the years. “Anyhow, Flash, Kid Flash, Team Flash, I think we’ve graced you with our presence long enough. Let’s be on our way, shall we?” He pauses and nods in her direction. “Caitlin.”

“Len.” It’s no uses, the name slips out, she’s been calling him Len since she was six years old.

Mick nods at her too as he follows Len out of the cortex. He at least looks happier than Caitlin’s seen him in a long time. Caitlin nods back. Then it’s just Lisa left. Caitlin expects a snarky comment, a softball insult, anything along the lines of what she’s heard Golden Glider exchange with the Rogues and Team Flash alike all through this team-up, but instead Lisa just gives her a guarded look from beneath her long lashes and then she’s gone too.

And like the last time, Caitlin doesn’t follow. 

Can’t follow, really, because Barry yanks his cowl off hard enough to take his ears with it, leans over her desk and says, “Will someone explain to me just what the hell is going on here?!”

Iris pulls him back by the scruff of the neck. “Barry, babe, breathe. We’ve talked about this.” She drags him over to a chair and Cisco takes over. “All right, so let’s have a quick review here. Caitlin, are you seriously saying that you and Golden Glider are known to each other, that Captain Cold and Heatwave know of this relationship and that – most importantly – you are all on first name terms?!”

“Um…I can neither confirm nor deny those allegations at this time?”

Cisco opens his mouth, but Iris cuts him off. “Okay, I know this may be a burning question for you guys, but some of us actually had plans for today beyond teaming up with the Rogues to battle an army of what I’m still calling zombies – no, Cisco, I’m done with you and the naming thing – and it’s late enough as it is. Barry and I have reservations we cannot miss, Wally, you better not be late meeting Jesse again, and Caitlin has that spa appointment at LaLaLavender, she’s been looking forward to it for weeks - ”

Caitlin has never heard of, and probably will never step foot in LaLaLavender, but Iris is giving her The Look, and Caitlin decides to just be grateful that The Look is being used in her favour this time. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to go for ages, and I could really use it after tonight - ”

“Wait, Lalalavender? I have a buddy who works there, did you know mmmpf - ” the rest of Wally’s helpful speech is cut off as Iris drags him and Barry out of the cortex by the collars of their Flash suits. Iris gives Caitlin a look as she goes, which roughly translates to, “We’ll talk about this later,” to which Caitlin smiles in response. Iris can be a scary person, but that doesn’t stop her from being a kick-ass friend. HR, dismissing the conversation as unimportant, cheerfully hauls Cisco off to look at his latest crazy invention; Cisco alternately aims puppy-dog eyes and murderous glances at Caitlin, who ignores them and waits for HR’s rambles to die away. Then she rolls up the long sleeves of her boring work dress and starts packing up to head back to her apartment.

For what she’s about to do, she’s going to need the right outfit, and a little help from a friend.

-

“Lisa, I love you, but I must be honest - as far as honesty is possible for me, thank you, Mick. I am an expert negotiator and people are stupid, but I’m afraid not even I can keep selling little gold statues of spiders. There’s just no market. So will you please give the gun a rest?”

Lisa turns away from the living room, which is now littered with tiny insect corpses trapped forever in a cocoon of solid gold and pouts. “Come on, Lenny, don’t spoil my fun.”

Her brother studies her with those piercing eyes which, after all this time, she still can’t fool, and says, “Your pout is off. What’s bothering you?” Something in Lisa’s expression must give her away, because he asks, “Does it perhaps have anything to do with the lovely Dr. Snow?”

“No,” says Lisa instantly and wants to groan at how unconvincing and unlike her it is. Lenny smirks, the bastard. “Well, well, looks like Lisa’s smitten. Cupid must be out and about after all.”

“Yeah, and he wants to know what the hell is taking you so bloody long,” growls Mick suddenly, swinging his legs off the couch and grabbing Len by the collar. Lisa will never understand the way Len goes willingly whenever Mick does that, his blue eyes wide and calm. Mick closes his eyes and inhales for a moment, then takes a step back. “Get changed. Wear something nice. I’m taking you out.”

“And what do I get if I do?” drawls Lenny. He seems to have forgotten Lisa’s in the room. “Gonna woo me, Mick?”

Mick leans forward and whispers something which Lisa is very glad she didn’t catch, giving the way her brother’s mouth drops open a little. “I’m still here, you know,” she informs them. “For fuck’s sake go get changed and get out. I’ve had quite enough excitement for one night.”

Mick and Len open their mouths in unison and Lisa fires the gold gun at them. They duck around the now solid gold pillar in the middle of the safehouse and hightail it for their bedroom, laughing like maniacs. Lisa’s a little incredulous and a lot relieved when they exit the front door fifteen minutes later, apparently without any making out in the walk in closet, Len in a black shirt, Mick in a blue jacket. 

The only thing worse than living with your jerk brother? Living with your jerk brother and his jerk husband. God, Lisa needs to move.

But not tonight. Tonight Lisa climbs the stairs to her bedroom, which is really the entire top floor of the safehouse, and flops down on her queen-sized bed. Not even the sight of her matching gold sheets and pillowcases gives her joy tonight. No, tonight Lisa’s thinking about Team Flash, or more specifically, the in-house doctor for Team Flash. She’d known where Caitlin worked from the moment Lenny had had his first run in with the Flash, back when the three of them came back to Central for good, but she’d never had to see her before. It doesn’t help that Caitlin’s gotten even more beautiful than she was at fifteen, all long legs and big eyes and pretty, perfect lips parting in surprise as Lisa walked into the cortex. And the bracelet just visible beneath her long sleeves, which Lisa’d zeroed in on because gold had always been her signature, clinging to Caitlin’s skin in a way that gave Lisa hope she really, really shouldn’t be feeling. 

She’s the one who never came back, after all. She’s the one who wasn’t there to comfort Caitlin when her mediocre performance at Nationals turned out to be the beginning of the end of her skating career. She wasn’t there to congratulate Caitlin on getting hired by Star Labs, or getting engaged, or to comfort her when both Star Labs and Caitlin’s fiancé got blown up. She wasn’t there when said fiancé died the second time either, or when the evil speedster in disguise screwed her over. She kept tabs on her from a distance, manipulating Lenny’s wide network of contacts to get her the information she needed, but she was never there. 

Even Mick’s had more contact with Caitlin than Lisa. That time two years after they fled Central City when he tracked them down in Gotham, just in time to save Len from being eaten by…something…he’d told her how Caitlin had come looking for them, how she’d turned up on his doorstep terrified but “making exactly the same mule face you Snarts get when you want answers.” He’d told her what he knew then, which wasn’t much. “She came by now and then, when she could get away without her mother noticing, but about six months in she just stopped.” Seeing Lisa’s face, he’d added, “Wasn’t her fault, mind. She was fifteen, Lisa. Forget not knowing how to deal with me, hanging around the kind of places I was in a school uniform like hers would have gotten her shot or mugged or worse.” 

And now it’s too late to get her back. It’s been nearly two decades, and she and Caitlin are even further apart than they were back when they were six and seven respectively and wobbling on the ice. Lisa sighs, and bends down to unzip her knee high leather boots. Her hair catches in the teeth of the elbow zip on her jacket – that’ll teach her to impulse buy – and she’s so busy struggling with it that she hears neither the creak of the French windows being unlatched or the soft whump of boots on carpet.

“Do you want some help with that?”

Lisa’s on her feet, the gold gun whirring as it powers up in her hand, before she realizes who the intruder is, which is when the thought crosses her mind that maybe one of those zombies did bite her earlier. Because how else do you explain the fact that Caitlin Snow is standing in the Rogues secret hideout, having apparently just scaled the side of the building, wearing what looks like black leather from head to toe, a pair of very interesting climbing boots and a very un-Caitlin-like grin?

“That’s nice of you,” Lisa says finally, lowering the gun. Caitlin raises her hands, and the light from the balcony outside glints off something on her wrist. “I know that you might not want to be around me anymore,” she begins. “I get it. It’s been a long time. But – would it be all right if I took you somewhere tonight? Just for a few hours. And then you can decide whether you want to disappear again.” Her tone is neutral, factual, holds none of the bitterness that would have inflected Lisa’s voice in the same situation. “Just – come.”  
She holds out a hand. Lisa, for the lack of anything else to do, takes it.

-

“Breaking and entering, Dr. Snow? Whatever would the Flash think?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” quips Caitlin breezily, sliding the window fully open. “Besides, it’s hardly breaking and entering if they’ve practically invited you by leaving the window two inches ajar.”

That’s the sort of opinion Lisa would expect from her lifelong felon of a brother, not an award winning scientist aiding and abetting the Flask, but hey, who is she to judge, right? 

They slip through the opening into what looks like a storeroom, and Caitlin leads the way through dark corridors on silent feet. Lisa keeps her hand on the thigh holster for the gold gun all the way up the flight of cracked concrete stairs; this new Caitlin may seem to know what she’s doing, but Lisa’s learned a lot in the years since she left Central. Caitlin pauses at the top, and Lisa tenses immediately, but it’s too late; betrayal crashes through her as she senses rather than sees the other woman press something in her pocket. It’s a trap. She hasn’t even texted Lenny to tell him where she is. She’s reaching for the gold gun for the second time that night when there’s a sound familiar to her from countless warehouses– the rattle of old generators banging into life – and a soft whirring. There’s a pause, and then it happens. Tiny Christmas lights flare into life, wreathed around the perimeter of the old ice rink and scattered throughout the dark domed space overhead. Lisa gasps. The lights pulse a soft, warm gold, turning the space she knows by heart into something faintly foreign.

Caitlin nudges her arm gently and points at the nearby stands. On the lowest bench are two pairs of skates. One is black shot through with little sparks of blue. The other one is gold.

Lisa puts her gun away and laces up the skates in silence. They’re even better than the last pair she had, the golden set she left behind when she and Lenny ran all those years ago. Her ankle doesn’t make one protest as she takes to the ice; once she’s done two circuits it feels like she never left, like it was only yesterday that she’d dusted off her blades, ready for the next day that never came. Caitlin is keeping pace with her, eyes on the ice; Lisa swallows, and feeling more nervous than she has in years, reaches for her hand. They fall back in time, into the rhythm, the speed, back into the gorgeous, intricate patterns they used to leave in the ice, the ones that used to get coaches talking about medals and that Lenny used to sketch from where he sat in the stands with Mick for them to look at later. By the time they slide to a halt in the center of the rink, where the glow from the lights is brightest, Lisa’s a little starstruck. “How did you set this up?” she asks Caitlin. 

Caitlin’s hair is hanging in ringlets around her face; her cheeks are a little pink. “We have another speedster who visits now and then. Jesse. She helped out.”

“And the climbing, and the breaking and entering-?”

Caitlin smiles. “Ronnie, my fiancé – he was a little bit of a daredevil. Both before and after he became Firestorm.” She seems to assume, correctly in this case, that Lisa would already know about Ronnie, and this makes Lisa feel better for reasons she can’t quite explain. “He was really into climbing, hiking, the whole adventure thing, and I went along with it. Learned a few things that come in useful now and then.” And then she grins at Lisa, and it’s so unexpected and so unlike the Caitlin she used to know and yet so endearing that Lisa has to kiss her.

It’s sweet and bright and happy and safe like Lisa hasn’t felt in two decades of running, and when Caitlin pulls back Lisa can’t believe that she’s going to have to go back to the running. But Caitlin holds up a hand before she can open her mouth to apologize. She pulls down the sleeve of her skintight leather jacket. There’s a three strand gold bracelet on her wrist, with little discs dangling from it, and Caitlin unclasps it and takes Lisa’s hand. “This belonged to you eighteen years ago, when I was standing in some shop in New York wishing you were there so I could give it to you already, but wanting at the same time to wait the five days till Valentine’s so you’d know what it meant.” She fastens the bracelet onto Lisa’s wrist. “It’s a little late, but…will you be my valentine, Lisa Snart?”

Lisa nods. She doesn’t trust herself not to do something stupid if she opens her mouth, like cry. Or kiss Caitlin senseless. Or turn the ice rink into a golden dancefloor out of sheer joy.

Caitlin smiles and kisses her wrist. “I’m sure we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this came out of nowhere and then proceeded to spiral wildly out of control. I never thought it would be such fun writing a Goldenfrost fic. Might do more of this with a Killer Frost spin on it? I don’t know. Happy Valentine’s Day!


End file.
